


our sanctuary

by lilabut



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, One Shot, Past Violence, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 04:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12403512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: When the Saviors are defeated, Carol and Daryl seek solitude. With each other.





	our sanctuary

_There wouldn't be anything left of me after that._

 

She told him that. All those months ago, her face glowing with the flames. He believed her, had witnessed the crumbling of her facade for too long.

 

It's why he lied that night.

 

And still, she came back. Armed and ready and lethal, but even then he could see her fading behind her armor. It scared him more than anything else. Made him less focused, less determined.

 

But they won.

 

 

 

The taste of victory is still as fresh as that of all the blood they had to spill and in the debris, he can see her singe away until only ashes remain.

 

He knew all along she would not stay. That the solitude she sought once is still as necessary to her survival as the smokey air they breathe.

 

Letting her go, that hurts more than a hundred whips of a belt across his back.

 

_I can't stay,_ she tells him on a broken whisper, bruises still staining her ivory skin. He wants to smooth those away, take away her pain but he carries too much of his own to ease hers.

 

_Yeah,_ he mutters, staring at the dusty tip of his boots. _I know._

 

* * *

 

In the aftermath, there's no running from his demons. With his thirst for revenge quenched, there's too much room and too much silence for the grief and the guilt to take hold that he refused to let himself feel before.

 

Everything that happened to him that he swallowed down from the moment Dwight sent a bolt through Denise's head until the moment they closed the cell door behind Negan catches up with him. Maybe even from long before that.

 

Brutally and without mercy.

 

Ain't like he deserves that anyway.

 

* * *

 

He takes her back to the yellow house with the white fence. An offer she wordlessly accepts. Maybe she wants him there. Maybe she just has no fight left in her bones to deny him this wish.

 

The journey is quiet, the silence filled only with the song of birds and leafs rustling in the wind. Almost comforting in its simplicity.

 

There's not much either of them could say and so they remain quiet. Words have never really been necessary between them anyway, he figures.

 

Dread fills him with each step they take until eventually, the house comes into view.

 

He's not ready to say goodbye. His fingers itch with the need to reach out for her. There's a hunger in him to hold her close and he's starving right here by the side of the road.

 

_Stay,_ she whispers then. A question and an offer all the same.

 

His eyes light up as hers shy away.

 

Instantly, he wants to say that he can't, no matter how much he may want to. The others need him. But he bites all that back.

 

Decides to be selfish for once.

 

Back home, he'll only be reminded of what he did that night in the clearing. Of what he endured in the reeking darkness of his cell.

 

Here, there's a chance for all that to fade away.

 

_All right._

 

* * *

 

It's almost like they forgot how to be around one another. At the prison, it came so naturally. Being close to her, seeking her out, had been an instinct. They gravitated towards one another.

 

But that burned to ash along with the prison, and they never got the chance to find their place again after that.

 

Now, he's restless. Staring up at the ceiling and memorizing the patterns in the wooden planks that cover it.

 

The sofa is old and worn. Barely long enough for him to fit on it. But even in his soft bed in Alexandria he could never find any peace.

 

His gaze wanders to the bedroom door.

 

It's foolish but he hopes she's doing better. That sleep comes easy and without nightmares.

 

But that illusion is shattered when he hears her terrified gasp in the dark hours of the night. Light flickering through the crack beneath the door.

 

He doesn't move an inch. Just listens to her ragged breaths until exhaustion finally claims him.

 

* * *

 

She looks so frail. Thin enough for him to see the shadows of her bones, pale as a ghost. She moves slowly as she prepares breakfast for them both.

 

The help he'd offered she quickly declined.

 

They eat in silence, and he starts to wonder what will happen now. For how long they'll last before it all breaks them. Shatters them.

 

The guilt, the grief, all those unspoken words.

 

His oatmeal tastes better than it should, fresh fruit bursting sweetly on his tongue but he no longer knows how to appreciate that.

 

Neither does Carol. Stirring her spoon around and around and eventually shoving the bowl away.

 

All day she sits on the back porch with a book in her lap. Fading away into different worlds while he is stuck in bleak reality. All alone.

 

* * *

 

He heads back to Alexandria the next day to grab his clothes and what other few belongings he calls his own.

 

Nobody seems to have missed him when he walks through the gates. He tries to write it off as the lasting blurriness that has settled over them all. So many people are gone, so many are scattered in the wind.

 

But deep down, it hurts knowing nobody even noticed he was gone.

 

* * *

 

She's gone when he returns. Not a sign of her anywhere and he can hardly breathe. Drops everything onto the worn floor and calls her name until his voice is hoarse.

 

She can't have left.

 

He storms into the woods when he finds the house empty, bushes and twigs lashing at him but she's nowhere to be found.

 

He runs until he can't anymore, collapsing onto the cold, hard ground. Looking up at the pale blue sky.

 

Just like her eyes. Clear and beautiful.

 

It seems promising to just stay here and wait for his body to wither away and the earth to reclaim him.

 

There's nothing for him here anyway. There never has been.

 

 

 

In the end, his tired feet carry him back to the yellow house.

 

There's light flickering through cracks in the shutters.

 

He has barely set a foot through the door before she's crashing into him. Knocking the air right out of his uncooperative lungs.

 

_Where did you go?_ Her voice stutters, wrecked with tearless sobs. Warm, delicate hands frame his face. Blue eyes full of terror. _What happened?_

 

The words he wants to say are stuck in his throat. Locked away as he stares at her in disbelief.

 

She gasps when he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest, all the soft curves of her melding into him.

 

_Thought ya'd left,_ he whispers, nuzzling his nose into the soft, silver curls that crown her head. _Thought ya'd gone again._

 

Nimble fingers curl into his shirt, the warmth of her burning through the cotton as tears soak the fabric.

 

_I won't leave again._

 

He clings to that promise just as he clings to her.

 

Just like she clings to him.

 

* * *

 

They plant a garden together. Spending hours in the sunlight digging deep into the earth, scattering seeds.

 

It feels like a commitment, and while it offers him comfort he's afraid Carol might see it as a chain.

 

He repairs the tall fence and the rusty gate. Sets up traps.

 

Anything to let them rest easy at night.

 

As easy as they can.

 

* * *

 

He doesn't ask her if she plans on ever going back.

 

To Alexandria.

 

To their family.

 

Home.

 

Maybe it was never home for her at all. Maybe the notion of that died the day Rick put a bullet in her little girl's head.

 

He doesn't know if he'll ever go back either.

 

Loyalty might force his hand.

 

But he knows what will inevitably happen. People will come. People will take. People will die.

 

Only now that he spends his days in quiet solitude and comfort does he realize just how tired of fighting he really is.

 

He's sick of the blood and the ashes and the screams.

 

There's enough of that haunting his dreams at night.

 

All he wants is peace and quiet. Carol by his side.

 

* * *

 

It takes a month before he finally notices some changes in her.

 

Her skin starts glowing.

 

A faint blush tints her cheeks.

 

Her hips and legs fill out.

 

Brightness shimmers in her eyes.

 

One day, she laughs. Clear and uninhibited when he accidentally knocks over a chair and nearly stumbles to his death.

 

She looks at him with pursed lips, and then the laughter breaks free like a long caged animal that finally tastes freedom.

 

Completely overwhelmed, he stares at her with parted lips and wide eyes.

 

_Ain't funny,_ he mutters, but the corners of his mouth twitch into the hint of a smirk.

 

* * *

 

She's dead. Lifeless and pale, limp in his arms.

 

The stench of decay and blood fills his nostrils, makes his eyes water.

 

Tears coat her transparent, bruised skin. Like watercolor on a frail canvas. Washing away.

 

Her fingers twitch. Fluttering against his. Almost delicate.

 

_You did this._

 

A woman's voice fills the air. He's in a cell. Dark and damp.

 

But there are tress on the horizon.

 

_It was you._

 

He turns.

 

Maggie. Holding a bundle in her arms. Blood staining the white blanket her baby is wrapped in.

 

_It was you._

 

Viciously, he shakes his head.

 

There's an apology on the tip of his tongue but he can't speak. Tries to move his lips but all that comes out is a strangled gasp.

 

A silent scream when nails bite into his neck. Clawing the skin off his bones.

 

He looks down into Carol's eyes. Bloodshot.

 

A stranger's eyes.

 

_Daryl,_ she hisses, his blood coating her lips. _Daryl._

 

He doesn't fight. Let's her tear at him as a baby cries beyond the trees. A green balloon carries in the wind. Past a rainbow and into the clouds.

 

_Daryl!_

 

He wakes with a jolt, sitting upright with so much force that he sees stars in the dark room.

 

She's there. Right there with a warm hand on his neck.

 

_It's not real,_ she whispers, thumb soothing over his pulse point. _It's not real._

 

He shudders, every bone in his body heavy as lead.

 

Her hand finds his. Wraps around it. Squeezes.

 

_Stay,_ he croaks, past any shyness and reason.

 

She doesn't deny him. Slips under the blanket and curls into his side. Head tucked beneath his chin, a hand on his heart.

 

The steady rise and fall of her breath lulls him into sleep all too quickly.

 

* * *

 

_Why'd you ask me to stay?_

 

The fire flickers, filling the room with a cozy, orange glow. The hearty smell of stew settles in the room, his belly full and his limbs tired.

 

He's stoking the flames when the question tumbles from his mouth. Carol - legs tucked beneath herself on the sofa - puts her book down and sighs.

 

Avoids his gaze.

 

_Because I know you need this,_ she explains, sounding almost remorseful in the way a heaviness settles in the pause that follows. _You need to be away._

 

_Why here?_

 

He's pushing her more than he usually would, and what little courage he has whimpers and recoils almost instantly.

 

Her skin glows in the light of the fire, shadows dancing on the high of her cheekbones and the dip of her collarbones.

 

She looks almost like she did that night.

 

When he told her a lie to protect her.

 

This time, however, the truth is spoken.

 

_Because I don't want to be alone._

 

* * *

 

One or two days a week, Daryl makes the short journey to the Kingdom. It's being rebuilt after the war, everybody pitching in.

 

Most days, he brings some rabbits, once even a deer. In exchange, he leaves with a basket full of fruits and vegetables, bread and pie.

 

Other days, he stays a little longer. Helps reinforce the wall, fixes broken windows.

 

 

 

_How is Carol?_ Ezekiel asks him one day, leaning on a cane. There's a somberness to the man now where grandeur used to be.

 

_She's fine,_ Daryl replies.

 

She isn't. Nobody is.

 

But it's an easy lie to accept with a slow nod.

 

_Give her my best wishes._

 

* * *

 

She pulls a worn box of Monopoly out of the closet one night. A hesitant smile on her face.

 

_Want to play?_

 

 

 

She's a cheater, that much is clear. Slipping fake, brightly colored bills into her stack and smiling innocently when he notices.

 

He loses all he has, and _god_ the way she giggles whenever he lands on another damn hotel and groans in defeat.

 

_Y'ain't playin' fair,_ he grumbles, tossing her his last, pathetic bill.

 

She shrugs, wearing her victory like a crown. _I don't know what you're talking about, Pookie._

 

She has not called him that in so long, her breath hitches in her throat when she notices.

 

But he smiles her doubt away. Ducks his head to hide a blush because he can't help but be reminded of easier times when that word would have come natural to her.

 

It's an hour spent with so much carefreeness that he manages to sleep soundly through the night afterwards.

 

* * *

 

Rain is drumming down on the roof, the sky outside gray and bleak.

 

He mended his clothes, cleaned the bow, stoked the fire.

 

Now, he's shifting his weight restlessly from one foot to the other.

 

_Sit with me,_ Carol tells him, curled up on the sofa with a mug of tea and a book in her lap.

 

He'd never pass up an offer like that. Kicking off his boots, he sits down. Stiffly at first, but then the soft cushions welcome him as he leans back.

 

_What'ya readin'?_

 

She smiles, takes a sip of tea.

 

And then, in the softest voice, starts reading out loud.

 

* * *

 

She's always been braver than him. From the day he first saw her at the quarry until now.

 

He's ready to make up his bed on the sofa like he does every night when a creaking floorboard startles him.

 

She's standing right there, barefoot in the candlelight.

 

_Come to bed with me,_ she whispers.

 

His throat goes dry and he watches her for any trace of doubt.

 

There's no implications to her words, but his mind spins and spins its way down the rabbit hole and he suddenly finds himself nervously wiping his palms against his pants.

 

_Please._

 

She holds out her hand, trembling fingers inviting him in.

 

He doesn't deserve this.

 

But he's weak.

 

He takes her hand. Lets her guide him into bed and turn to face him. All blurred shadows and silken skin.

 

_Kiss me._

 

How many times has he imagined how her lips would feel against his? How many dreams have been spent doing nothing but mapping her out?

 

This isn't how it was meant to happen, but he can't deny her a thing. Even if his own heart cracks open the moment he presses his chapped, dry lips to her soft and pliant ones.

 

Her whimper fuels him, makes him brave and needy. When she doesn't protest he rolls her over, settles in the cradle of her thighs and allows his hands to roam.

 

Nothing has ever felt this soft in the world. Against his calloused skin, she feels surreal and he can't stop. Smooths his hands under her shirt and over her rib cage, along her spine, down her thighs.

 

She's quick to push down her sweatpants, lost in the ruffled sheets. Her hands, curious and gentle, trace over his abdomen, the muscles there contracting and he can't bite back a throaty groan. Too deprived of touch and release, he let's her reach inside his own pants. Push them far enough down his hips until he can feel her warm and slick against him.

 

When he pushes into her, her legs lock around his waist and his name falls from her lips in a breathless, wondrous gasp.

 

Surrounded by her, he understands instantly why she asked him here. It's never been easier to _forget_ than it is now.

 

And when she falls apart beneath him, contracting and trembling, sending him soaring over the edge, he feels whole.

 

Like all the broken pieces finally fit.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, he wakes up in an empty bed.

 

He can hear Carol rummaging around in the kitchen and it could almost be comforting. Familiar. If it wasn't all so damn new.

 

And different. All so different.

 

Sunlight filters through a crack in the curtains, dust dancing in the glowing beam.

 

He feels spent, sated in a way that he has never known.

 

He takes his time getting out of bed, knows that there's a reason Carol did not stay with him. Did not wake him.

 

Fear inevitably begins to simmer in his veins.

 

 

 

She's fully dressed when he steps into the kitchen, her hair shimmering in the morning sun that she allowed in with a wide open window.

 

Her fingers are stained blood red as she tears apart a pomegranate and sorts the seeds into a bowl.

 

A heavy feeling settles in his gut at the sight.

 

She hates those things. The only reason she'd bother with one is to distract herself.

 

From him. From what they've done.

 

He doesn't say a word and she doesn't turn to face him.

 

* * *

 

The woods welcome him that day. Damp from recent rain, the thick scent clinging to moss and bark.

 

He breathes it in, let's it calm his frayed nerves.

 

The stream a mile into the trees rushes softly over earth and rocks. Lapping at his overheated skin when he sinks his hands into the water.

 

A part of him wishes he could just stay here and let the water wash him away.

 

* * *

 

She comes to him that night, long after they've both gone to bed.

 

Quiet footsteps that echo in the silent room. Pale skin glowing in the moonlight.

 

No words are spoken when she slides under the blanket with him, straddling his hips.

 

She rids him off his pants and sinks down on him before he has a chance to even touch her.

 

A pained whimper tears from her throat and he wants to stop, wants to lay her down and take his time. Make her melt and quiver but she pushes down on his chest and moves her hips furiously until he sees stars.

 

Punishing herself.

 

* * *

 

It's a pattern he's not strong enough to break.

 

She comes to him night after night. Seeks something he can't give her, takes something from him that breaks him a little more every time he wakes up alone.

 

He's washing himself in the small bathroom when she steps in. In broad daylight, he shies away from her gaze. Muscles rippling as he tenses.

 

But she softly shakes her head. Wraps her arms around him and rests her cheek against his back, snug between his shoulder blades.

 

Fingers tracing over damp, cold skin as his treacherous body responds.

 

_Carol-_ he chokes but she hums, silencing him for a moment. Lips ghosting over one of the bigger scars on his back.

 

She reaches down, takes him into her hand. Moves slowly, dragging her hand up and down and he won't last at all like this.

 

But he can't do this again.

 

_Stop._

 

She does, withdraws her hand.

 

_You don't want to?_ she asks, voice riddled with insecurity as her warm breath dampens his skin.

 

Ignoring his own demons, he turns to face her. Rests a palm softly against her cheek.

 

_I do. Want ya so bad,_ he rasps, the true depth of his feelings beyond what he can put into words.

 

There's a question stitched into the crease on her forehead.

 

_But not like this._

 

She sighs deeply, eyes glossy and distant. Looking right through him.

 

Fading. Slipping through his fingers.

 

His heart fractures a little more when she turns away.

 

_It's all I have,_ she breathes, and then he's all alone again.

 

* * *

 

He watches her, kneeling by the slowly growing cucumbers. Worrying the hair tie she wears like a rosary around her wrist.

 

_Ya want me to leave?_

 

The birds sing a cheerful song in response. His heart aches, playing such a vastly different tune.

 

_No._

 

* * *

 

He can hear her at night. Restless behind her closed door.

 

Every muscle in his body aches with the need to go there, to hold her and carry the burden.

 

But he can't. Not until she lets him. Maybe not even then.

 

 

 

In his dreams, her face melts into that of her little girl.

 

Telling him he failed her.

 

_You didn't find me._

 

Her face melts into Merle.

 

Telling him he failed him.

 

_Ya just let me die, little brother._

 

His face melts into Hershel.

 

Telling him he failed him.

 

_You let him kill me, son._

 

His face melts into Beth.

 

Telling him he failed her.

 

_You didn't save me._

 

Her face turns into Denise.

 

Telling him he failed her.

 

_You were supposed to keep me safe._

 

Her face melts into Glenn.

 

Telling him he failed him.

 

_You got me killed._

 

His face melts into Carol.

 

Silent.

 

* * *

 

A month later, she comes to him again. Silently moves under the blanket and into his welcoming arms.

 

Worms into him, burrowing deeper and deeper as if she's trying to crawl under his skin. Hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

 

He can feel the dips of her vertebrae under his fingertips as they ghost up and down her back. One by one he counts, waiting.

 

_I killed her,_ she whispers then, fragile and barely audible. A secret locked away for too long. _Lizzie. I killed her._

 

She has carried the weight of what happened out on the road for so long, he can feel her body easing, going slack in his arms as she tells him everything.

 

Pours every bad deed she thinks she has committed, every sin, into the night.

 

He kisses the crown of her head. Holds her as close as he can until not even a piece of paper could fit between them.

 

She's cutting herself open, bleeding herself dry. Finally ridding herself of the poison of her secret.

 

A secret Tyreese took to the grave.

 

And so many more. Names and nameless faces. Lives she took and that, in return, took a part of her.

 

There's nothing he can say to make her feel better. He knows that.

 

And so he let's her talk. Let's her shudder and whimper until she's finally spent.

 

Her eyes find his in the dark then. Hesitant fingers feathering over his cheek, soft as a butterfly.

 

Offering him one last secret.

 

_I love you._

 

* * *

 

Something changes after that night.

 

She carries herself easier.

 

Smiles more.

 

The weight of what she endured remained, but the chains it put around her seem to have broken away.

 

Around him, she's almost shy.

 

Let's her head fall back against his shoulder when he wraps his arms around her from behind, holding her steady against him.

 

Blushes when he's brave enough to steal a kiss for no reason. After they finish breakfast. When she reads a book. Small, unimportant moments.

 

Smiles hazily when he smooths his hands up and down her arms until goosebumps prickle her skin.

 

Hums contently when she curls into his side.

 

Believes him when he tells her he loves her.

 

Sighs his name like a prayer when he makes love to her. Really makes love.

 

It means something now. He gets to explore her, map her out like the most serene landscape, touch her and kiss her everywhere. There's nothing more wondrous or breathtaking than watching her fall apart from his touch.

 

There's no punishment to this. It's not a distraction.

 

It's how he always imagined it would be. Sweet, gentle and quiet like she deserves.

 

Like he once believed he deserved.

 

* * *

 

She starts coming to the Kingdom with him every now and then. Seems ready to be around other people again.

 

He watches her dismiss Ezekiel's wooing remarks, smile at old friends. Sometimes, she helps out in the kitchen and when he holds her in his arms at night, she smells of cinnamon and sugar.

 

He doesn't know shit about happiness. But he knows this is the closest he's ever been to it.

 

Looking back on his life, all his happy memories include her.

 

Still, the bad ones outweigh even those, casting a large, suffocating shadow that's becoming harder and harder to hide.

 

* * *

 

_You can tell me,_ she whispers one night, trailing her finger in a delicate pattern over his sweat-slicked chest.

 

_Hmm?_ he hums, blood still thrumming in his ears and his body like a live wire.

 

_What happened when I was gone._

 

He looks away, out the window and into the night. Stars speckled across the midnight blue sky like the freckles on Carol's body.

 

_Can't,_ he chokes, and he can hear it echoing in his head. The crunch of a skull. Maggie's scream. The silence that followed. Thick as blood.

 

Carol sighs, pressing her lips to his jaw. Accepting defeat.

 

 

 

He's afraid she won't forgive him.

 

That she'll blame him.

 

He'd accept it. Understand it. But coming from her, it would break him.

 

* * *

 

_Smells good._

 

He walks into the room, lit up by candles, a soup cooking over the fire.

 

Shaking his head, a few droplets of water splatter from his still damp hair.

 

_You're such a dog,_ Carol chuckles, wrapping her arms around his neck. _And you're cold._

 

He shrugs, nudging the tip of his nose against hers.

 

_Wasn't gonna wait for the water to heat up,_ he explains. It hardly bothers him now. She's warm enough to make up for it.

 

Carol, however, seems concerned.

 

_Makes you miss the hot showers back home, doesn't it?_

 

The word home strikes him the most. It spills from her lips without much afterthought until her eyes catch his.

 

_Ya ever wanna go back?_ he asks, wondering in that same second if he's pushing her too far.

 

The distance in her eyes returns, her mind caught in a faraway place until she sighs and rests her head against his shoulder.

 

_I don't know._ Her fingers sift through the hair at the base of his skull, and it feels too damn good to be true, his lids fluttering shut on instinct alone. _I miss- I miss the way it used to be._

 

He knows what she means, feels the same nostalgia that lines her voice like a dusty old home movie. What they used to have so long ago, it was taken from them and beaten into the cold, hard ground. They're what's left of it.

 

_I just don't know if it can ever be like that again. If I can-_

 

Soothingly, he runs his hand up and down her back, the other secure and consistent at her waist. Maybe deep down he believes he has the strength to hold her together like this. That he matters enough for that to be a possibility.

 

_We ain't gotta go back,_ he murmurs into the soft curls of her hair. It's growing out these days, softer, like silver melting in the summer sun. _Ain't gotta do nothin' ya don't wanna do._

 

She pulls back, affection pouring from her eyes in leaps and bounds and it almost makes him want to retract what he said. Causes his cheeks to flush and his head to duck down.

 

_You miss the others,_ she points out. Gentle and without blame.

 

All he can do is shrug. She's not wrong. The others, they'd become the only family he ever knew. More than his flesh and blood family ever had been. _I'd miss ya more._

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, he runs into Jesus at the Kingdom.

 

Carol had stayed behind today, too engulfed in the novel she's reading at the moment to bother leaving the house in the mild drizzle.

 

Jesus tells him a great deal about what's going on outside the walls of their little yellow house, more than he knew from his occasional conversation with Ezekiel. He tells him about Rick and the others, tells him they're doing fine. About the last Saviors being taken care of.

 

_Maggie had the baby last week,_ he finally says with a broad smile. Daryl forces what barely resembles a smile of his own, his stomach churning. _A boy. Maybe you and Carol could come and visit some time. I know Maggie would love to see you._

 

It's an easy suggestion to make. A kind one. But all Daryl can do is mutter a weak excuse under his breath and slip away into the crowd.

 

On the walk home, he feels worse than he has in a while.

 

All he can think about is Maggie, who has had to endure this all alone. The kid, who will grow up in this shit world and never know his father.

 

Glenn.

 

Who should have been the one to tell him this. Proud and gleaming in that stupid way of his.

 

 

 

Of course Carol knows something is wrong when he returns.

 

It's late, and she's almost ready for bed. Looking cozy and sweet in a way that makes his heart ache in the most tender way because what good did he do to ever deserve this?

 

Ever full of mercy, she does not ask him right away. Let's him wash away the grime of the day and dress in soft cotton. Under the soft sheets of their bed, she welcomes him into her arms, her lips whispering sweet nothings into his skin.

 

A part of him, selfish and needy, wants to kiss her. Deep and hard, use her as a distraction the way she used him. It would be easy enough. They've learned each other well enough by now for this to work. For her to take pleasure from it too.

 

But she's quicker than him.

 

_What happened today?_ she asks somberly, head resting on his shoulder.

 

He could lie. Could just remain quiet.

 

But maybe this is the only time he'll ever be able to say this. Maybe now is his chance, even though he's not ready for the consequences.

 

_It was my fault._

 

Her brows crease. _What was?_

 

He tells her everything then. Recounts in few, sharp words what happened that night in the clearing when he let his temper get the best of him. When one wrong step came at such great cost.

 

All the while, she listens quietly. Wrapped around him with her hand firmly in his own, grounding him. She does not tell him that it wasn't his fault. That he isn't to blame – just like he'd never tried to tell her that what she'd done in the past had been right.

 

It wouldn't make a difference either way.

 

_Thought he'd kill me,_ he finishes weakly, eyes squeezed shut as he waits for her judgment. For her to push him away in disgust.

 

But that moment never comes.

 

* * *

 

Snow dances from the white sky, resting like a blanket over the fields beyond the house. It glistens up in the bare trees like little diamonds tossed into the air.

 

He can't believe his luck. That he gets to sit here in front of a crackling fire with Carol in his arms and a plate of pie in his lap. It's a comfort and a joy as he looks out beyond the milky glass.

 

_I was thinking,_ Carol says, looking up at him with a hesitant smile. _Maybe we could... Maybe we could visit the others? One of these days._

 

There's still a fragment of doubt in her voice. Something that tells him she's been tossing this idea around in her head for quite some time.

 

He nods, tightens his hold around her.

 

_Sure._ A kiss to the crown of her head seals the promise.

 

She burrows into him further, cold hands tucked between their bodies, soaking up all his warmth.

 

_Do you think they still remember us?_ she asks, mostly teasingly but with a hint of genuine concern laced into her words. It's been almost a year. Longer even since _she_ left Alexandria. Maybe they won't be as welcome as they think. But it's a foolish thought, he knows that. And Carol knows it, too.

 

_Stop,_ he drawls, gently nudging her side. It draws a laugh from her, light and sweet – quickly silenced by his kiss.

 

* * *

 

_There wouldn't be anything left of me after that._

 

Her words replay in his mind over and over as he listens to her even breaths where she's tucked into his side.

 

Maybe she was right. Maybe everything they used to be has been burned away by now.

 

But maybe, over time, they grew back from the ashes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write this for over a year and I have no idea why this took me so damn long. But I hope you enjoyed it :)


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